Ann'Drew

Chapter One: Things Begin-Hopefully

No-one is entirely sure why, but somewhere in the middle of a deep city was a ratty apartment full of torn-up fabric and one mangled couch that was rarely ever used except for by the cat's claws. The resident of this apartment would like to remain anonymous, which is understandable considering that he is not, in fact, our hero.

The hero of this story had much, much smaller quarters for his life. Not that the quarters in his pocket were any smaller than average quarters, just that the quarters in his pocket were quite precious as they were the only quarters he owned, if you know what I mean. Ann'Drew Shaupher was—fittingly—a chauffeur, and he didn't like it. He was just pondering how much he didn't like it when the buzzer above him rung threateningly. He bumped the switch with his elbow, automatically raising his foot off of the gas, slowing, just in case.

"yessir?" He asked, in his polite voice.

"Here is fine." Said the voice over the intercom in a tone that suggested here was more than fine. Here was, actually, so much more than fine that if he moved too much farther there would be an abundance of less-than-kind words to follow. 

"Righty then!" Ann'Drew smiled. He nudged the switch again and only grumbled after he'd done so. He slowed as quickly as he could without jolting his passenger, then aggressively slid into the left lane. He was on a one-way road, and the cars parked against the left curb had exactly one (1) opening in them. It was hardly big enough for the baby-limozine that Ann'Drew was driving, but he'd managed with tighter spots before.

He swallowed hard as he eased his front end into the spot. Technically, he *could* parallel park into the spot, however a glance into the rear-view mirror—through which he could see his client's forehead tightening in frustration—revealed that he would be better off making quick time. Ann'Drew inhaled deeply, still pulling the car forward. He closed his eyes, then made soundless words while he exhaled. When he opened his eyes he was perfectly positioned against the curb. One shift into reverse and a loving tap on the gas one last time planted him firmly in the spot. Ann'Drew was confident that he hadn't been seen. 

Quick as he could, Ann'Drew turned off the car, unbuckled, then got out. He took long strides to the end of the car, opening the door with the distinct flourish that he was known for. In response, his client only hurumphed as he stepped out. Ann'Drew was used to this. He held out his hand anyway, it was standard for clients to tip their drivers.

With a familiar twitch of his bulbous nose Ann'Drew's client pulled his cigar from between his teeth and blunted the end in the palm of Ann'Drew's hand. Ann'Drew grimaced as this happened, wincing. The spot in his hand was already calloused from the client's previous offerings, but the brief press of heat still stung each time. Ann'Drew silently withdrew his hand from the cigar and dusted it off on his slacks (the top bit, where his hanging jacket hems would cover the ash-mark) before sliding it into his pocket and firmly grasping his thigh until the faint stinging wore off. 

"Will that be as far as we're going today, sir?" Ann'Drew asked with a smile that showed nothing. 

Grunt. Curt nod. 

"Have another ride back to the office?" Ann'Drew asked. His line of business required that he inquire of the client's transportation needs before leaving them, as a final courtesy and a last resort for more income.

"Leave me an' my business alone, boy," The suddenly fluent businessman said in a gruff voice, raising his cigar to his mouth again, "I got enough problems on my own." 

Ann'Drew loped his head into something of a nod, "Yessir I will then. Have a great day at that." And without another word between the two he closed both doors of the limo, with himself in the driver's seat. He knew he'd be back in just over four hours. That was the way with Mr. Wrighthogg. Never got a taxi.